Finite Time
by M. Marchand
Summary: Every man has to face his own mortality, even Charlie Eppes.


Acknowledgments:  
Omi as always  
To Elise for just plain asking for fic - what a novel approach!  
To Tawnie for making me want to finish this quickly

Disclaimers:  
"A vague disclaimer is nobody's friend" - Willow, Buffy the Vampire Slayer  
I do not own the characters Don or Charlie nor do I have any rights to  
anything related to the TV show Numb3rs. I plead fair use and claim  
only my own writing and characters.

* * *

"This is the last will and testament of Charles Edward Eppes..."

Don pressed the pause button on the VCR remote control, stunned by what he saw. A nervous and sad looking Charlie looked back at him from the television screen. Don had seen the video camera set up on the tripod when he first came in but didn't think anything of it. Evidently, Charlie had been using it to record his will.

His last will and testament. He wasn't even thirty yet! Don rationalized the fact that he'd had one in place since his twenties since it was a normal part of working in law enforcement. But Charlie? Don couldn't fathom the importance of a math professor needing a videotape of their will.

He turned off the TV, unable to bear watching any further and headed upstairs. Charlie wasn't in his room but was bent over the desk in the solarium. It took Don a few seconds to realize he'd fallen asleep there.

"Hey, buddy..." Don shook him gently.

An indistinguishable sound came from the mop of curls on the desk.

Don nudged him a bit. "Buddy, wake up. You're sleeping at the desk again."

Charlie finally stirred and sat up, rubbing his eyes against the light of his work lamp. He ran his fingers through his hair, making the curls go even more awry than they had been previously.

"Don..." he said sleepily. "What time is it?"

"Time for you to close the notebooks and go to bed," Don chided.

"Yeah, yeah..." Charlie flipped the books on the table closed and stumbled out of the room as Don followed.

Charlie stopped in front of his bedroom door. "I should eat something," he mused. "I forgot to eat earlier."

Don put a hand on his back and guided him to the stairs. "What else is new? Come downstairs and I'll make you a sandwich, okay?"

Charlie nodded and they walked downstairs silently, Don watching his brother carefully, trying to read him.

In the kitchen, Charlie pulled up a chair and sat at the table while Don went about making sandwiches for both of them.

"You want to talk about it?" Don asked quietly.

"About what?" Charlie said noncommittally.

"You tell me," Don said. "Something obviously went down today."

Don turned to open the refrigerator and saw a note on the door reminding Charlie he had a doctor's appointment. The appointment had been that morning. Memories of his mother flooded him and Don's concern at Charlie suddenly needing a will left him weak in the knees. He put down the items he was holding and sat down at the table in a daze.

Don realized that Charlie hadn't responded yet but was staring at his hands, looking incredibly sad.

"Charlie, did anything happen at the doctor's today?" Don asked, trying to hide the anxiety that had welled up in him.

Charlie shrugged but said nothing.

Don got up, walked around the table, and pulled up a chair next to Charlie.

"Buddy, look at me... Please."

Charlie pushed away from the table enough to turn at look at Don. He met his eyes for a moment then looked back down again, staring at his hands folded in his lap.

Don put his hand over Charlie's hands. "Charlie, I... I saw the tape. I saw the tape of your will."

Charlie looked up sharply. "You watched it?" he said, alarmed.

"No, no..." Don assured him. "I only saw the first sentence then I turned it off. I promise!"

Charlie tried to leave but Don grabbed him by the arms and guided him back down to his chair.

"Charlie, did something happen at the doctor's today? Something that made you think you suddenly needed a will?"

"No," Charlie said a bit sullenly.

"Charlie..." Don began but was interrupted.

"It was afterwards..." Charlie glanced up at Don and for a split second Don could see the fear he'd been hiding. Charlie went back to staring at his hands, speaking haltingly.

"I was riding my bike back to campus and I heard..." Charlie faltered and Don could see him start to get upset. "I heard this horrible sound. I didn't see it happen but I heard it. I turned the corner on my bike and there was already a crowd of people there."

"An accident?" Don guessed. "You heard two cars crash?"

Charlie shook his head sadly. "The car didn't hit another car. It... It hit a person. That's the sound I heard."

Don's expression shifted from one of worry to one of sadness. "So you went to see if you could help?" he encouraged him to go on.

"Yeah, I called 911 on my cell phone and thought maybe my first aid training might come in handy, you know? I know what to do for shock and I can do CPR..." His voice trailed off as his mind played back the events of the day. "But there was nothing I could do. Nothing anyone could do. The man had obviously died on impact."

"Buddy, I'm so sorry you had to see that." Don put his hand on Charlie's shoulder to comfort him but he seemed immune to the contact, lost in the replay of the sight of the dead pedestrian.

"I never believed in fate," Charlie said after a moment of silence. "I believe we are in control of our own destiny. But what if our lives aren't predetermined but our lifespan is? I know we all have a finite amount of time to live but we could all go at any second. It all seems so..."

"Unfair?" Don interjected. "Charlie, if life was fair it'd be Mom making you a sandwich right now, not me. Yes, anyone could go at any time but that's not the point."

"What? 'Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die'? Is that the point?" Charlie said bitterly.

"No, the point is to live like you are going to live a long life. That 'tomorrow we die' crap? That's living in fear and no one can truly enjoy life if they're afraid of losing it. Trust me if everyone who worked in law enforcement believed we were going to die every day we'd all be putting in for stress leave! You have faith in your abilities and in your team and then you just let it go. No sense letting it eat you up inside. You work, you live and plan for the future regardless of whether you're going to be around for it."

Charlie finally looked at his brother closely. "Do you really feel that way? I mean, you've probably had a will for years."

Don shrugged. "Occupational hazard. You have a will just in case but you never believe you'll need it. You can't else you'd go nuts."

Charlie thought for a moment. "Well now I have one just in case."

Don smiled at him. "And that's a good thing. Planning is part of life so don't worry about it." He got up and went back to making the sandwiches. "You did leave the house to me in that will of yours, right?" Don teased. "Because if you didn't I'd have to kick your ass."

Charlie chuckled. "Sorry, you didn't get the house. I gave it to Dad. You only get it if he goes first. I have it on good authority that you make out pretty decent in Dad's will though so don't worry about it."

"Oh really?" Don smirked. "He left it all to his first born son?"

Charlie got up and started helping with the sandwiches. "Yeah, well he figured you'd never make any decent money, what with your pitiful government salary," he joked.

Don gave Charlie a playful shove. "Hey, we can't all be lay about overpaid academics! Someone has to keep the peace you average citizens enjoy so much!"

Charlie flashed his brother a happy grin and settled down at the table with him to eat.

"Not a lay about," he mumbled with his mouth full.

"Fine," Don grinned back, handing him a napkin. "But you are a slob."

"Am not..."

"Oh, you totally are a slob! Take your room for example..."


End file.
